Flash
by pokethebadger
Summary: Merry and Pippin chat during their first night in Rivendell.


**Title:** Flash  
**Disclaimer:** I made it up. Not claiming any rights, not making any money, don't bother filing a lawsuit. You'll just get a bunch of textbooks I can't sell back.

**Notes:** While this isn't my first _attempt_ at LotR fic, this is the first successful _completion_ of an attempt. Understandably, it's not the greatest thing ever. Sorry.

If he tried hard enough, Merry could almost fool himself into believing he was still at home, still outside Brandybuck Hall in the safety of his own backyard. Then he would catch snippets of conversations in a language he could not begin to understand and remember that for all its deceiving familiarity, he was still farther from home than he had ever been. The illusion, however brief and comforting it may have been, was inevitably revealed to be exactly that and left him in an endless cycle of disillusionment and fear.

The moon had lit the trails through the wood as Strider and the rest of the hobbits arrived, weary and hungry and more than anything worried about their fallen comrade. Merry had jabbed Pippin's side when he caught his cousin openly gawking at the elves they passed. 'Well, I've never seen an elf before, Merry. Really, what am I hurting just by taking a little look?' Pippin had whispered in the darkness just before stumbling over a tree root. Merry grabbed Pippin's arm and heaved him roughly to his feet, dimly aware of laughter hanging in the air around them.

His feet had dragged while he followed Aragorn's silhouetted form through the woods, assuring himself that sleep would come to him just as soon as his body was in some sort of comfortable position. Instead, he had tossed about in the ridiculously oversized bed provided for him before finally giving in and wandering outside.

Stretched out on his back with one arm under his head, toes rhythmically curling and releasing the thick grass of the forest floor, Merry found himself at ease for the first time since leaving the Shire. Looking up through the treetops and catching glimpses of stars through the swaying branches, Merry realized that at least that much would always be familiar to him no matter where he might find himself.

His eyes drifted shut as he took another drag from the pipe in his right hand, and as a light breeze began to scatter stray hairs across his cheeks he thought for a moment that sleep would come to him after all. A sudden snap of a twig somewhere off to his left made him sit up quickly, eyes darting around wildly. His mouth opened, the words of a plea for help forming on his tongue, when he saw a sight perhaps more familiar to him than even the stars: a mop of curly nut brown hair bobbing up and down and around the thick net of trees, followed quickly by Pippin's face appearing over the top of the hill.

Merry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as Pippin seated himself on the ground next to him. "Hullo, Merry."

"Pip," he greeted in return, careful to keep the pipe hidden by his leg. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask the same."

"Yes, but I asked first."

Pippin frowned for a second, then shrugged. "I dunno. Not that sleepy, I suppose." He cocked his head to the side, nose wrinkled as he leaned in and gave Merry a tentative sniff. "Have you been smoking?"

"No," Merry answered cooly, pushing at his cousin's shoulder to regain his personal space. Pippin, relentless, leaned in closer and sniffed, eyes going comically wide.

"Yes you have! You've been smoking, I can smell it on you! Where did you get it?" he blurted in what Merry could only presume was one breath; the older hobbit squirmed away, swatting at Pippin's hands as they started pawing over his vest.

"I have not!"

"Have so! Look there!" Pippin continued to argue, pointing an accusatory finger at the pipe that was revealed to him during his investigation. "You have pipe-weed, and you were keeping it secret!"

"I was doing no such thing."

"You were! Where did you get it?"

Merry kept his tongue firmly between his teeth for several seconds to keep from throttling his dear uncle Paladin's only son. When he opened his mouth to speak again he made sure to keep his eyes on the tree directly ahead of him. "I carried a little with me when we left home."

Pippin's eyes went huge again, his mouth curling into a hopeful smile. "Can I have some?"

"No."

"Why not? We share everything, remember?"

"Not everything, Pippin." He glanced at Pippin from the corner of his eye to find the younger hobbit still staring at him, green eyes huge and imploring. "You're too young."

Indignation flashed across Pippin's face as his back straightened in defiance. "I am not! You're not much older than I am, if you'll recall."

"Yes, I do recall, but that's not the point," Merry countered while taking another puff from his pipe, fully aware that Pippin's eyes traced the smoke in the dim light until it disappeared into nothingness.

"It isn't as though it would be the first time I ever had the stuff, you know."

Well, that was news to him. Merry's eyes narrowed impulsively. "Oh? And who gave it to you?"

Pippin's cheeks flushed past their usual rosy color. "That's not really important, is it?" When met with stony silence, he offered a nervous smile in return. "Fatty."

Merry rolled his eyes. "I should have known."

"Three years ago."

"Pippin!" Merry whispered harshly, looking around quickly as though any of his relatives might be nearby and listening. "You aren't even of age yet!"

"Well, yes, I'm aware of that, thank you," Pippin answered with the same tone every petulant tweenager used when things were not going his way. The two sat in companionable silence for some time before he reached over and tugged at Merry's shirt sleeve. "Can I have some now?"

"No!"

Disappointed and a little irritated, Pippin went back to staring out into the night, knees drawn to his chest and his chin resting upon them. Somewhere in the distance elves were singing, bits of their song floating through the air and settling around them like pieces of a puzzle, coherence broken by the occasional hoot of an owl or squawk of a bat. Merry found himself tapping his foot unconsciously in time to the beat of a drum accompanying the song.

"To be completely honest with you, Merry, I'm not so certain that I like this little adventure we've found ourselves in."

The comment was so unexpected and unusual coming from Pippin's mouth that Merry accidentally inhaled a cloud of smoke, making him cough and thump his fist against his chest. Pippin watched in amusement for some time with a wry smirk, though he did not dare to make the situation worse by laughing or taunting his cousin. Family or not, Merry would not hesitate to use his size advantage to teach him the improperness of laughing at the misfortune of others.

After the choking spell, Merry turned disbelieving eyes on Pippin. "You must be mistaken. Your entire family reputation rests on that silly notion that Tooks are the most adventurous hobbits of all."

Pippin looked momentarily upset, then settled for a wistful sigh and what might have been a smile, if Merry had been able to see it better in the dim light. "Oh, I still believe that, Merry, very much so. I have an aunt who swam across the Brandywine once in the middle of winter just because my father said she couldn't do it." He paused, eyes downcast as he idly began plucking at the grass. "And I suppose I still believe that to be true with me as well. It's just that...well, I've always wanted to go on a great journey and see what lies beyond the Shire. Do you remember how we used to plan our trip for when we were both of age?"

It was a memory that Merry had almost forgotten, it had been so pushed aside by time and more pressing matters. It was also a nice enough memory to surprise a grin from him. "I do. We both wanted to visit Tolfalas to see the midsummer festival, but we never could quite decide on a path to take because you kept insisting on going far out of the way."

Pippin raised a challenging eyebrow. "And you only wanted to go there directly from the Shire. Really, Merry, where is your sense of adventure? You are my cousin, after all, so there's yet some Took blood in you."

"My apologies, but I just didn't see the point in taking such a long route. I mean, why did we need to go all the way to Mirkwood and double the length of the trip?"

"Because that's the point of traveling, Merry," Pippin replied with exaggerated condescension. "So you can travel and, you know, see things. And besides, I wanted to see elves, so I made it a point to go through two places where I knew I'd find them."

Merry laughed quietly, amazed at his cousin's seemingly endless curiosity about all things foreign to him. "Oh, but look, Pip. You've managed to get your wish anyway."

"Yes," Pippin agreed, grinning into his knees. "Not quite the way I had planned, though."

The fair voices in the background faded until they were as still as the rest of the night before beginning again, this time with a song far more somber in tune and pace. Both hobbits listened to as much as they could, both searching their minimal knowledge of the elvish language to try to pick out at least a few words. When that failed, they settled for merely listening to the sound of the song.

"Do you think we will ever get to Tolfaras?"

"I don't think we're going that way, actually."

Pippin aimed a playful kick at Merry's shin. "No, I mean sometime later, after this whole business is over. That is, of course, assuming that we survive through it."

Having no remark to make about the uncharacteristically pessimistic comment, Merry remained silent, lips fixed on the pipe. Pippin was always more than happy to talk enough for the both of them anyway.

"It's a bit strange, isn't it? How eager I've always been to go out on some grand adventure like Bilbo did. Funny thing is, now that I have it I don't think I want it. In my mind, it was all only a way to pass the time. I never counted on anyone being hurt. Oh, of course, I imagined there would be bumps and scratches along the way, which can only be expected, naturally, but I never once thought something more serious could happen.

"Then yesterday on Weathertop, it was as though I discovered that everything I thought was wrong. I had fooled myself into thinking that it was only a game, even those black creatures we've seen along the way. Then that...that thing stabbed Frodo, and suddenly it was as if I was really seeing them for the first time. They weren't there to provide a sort of thrill for us along the way. They...they want to kill Frodo, Merry. Maybe us as well. And I had never once even considered that. And truthfully, it...scares me a little. A lot." He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. "But please don't tell Frodo that. He has quite enough to worry about as it is."

The song evolved gracefully into a new form, another slow tune with a melodious stream of softly chanted lyrics. When a trio of elves walked on the path just below the hill in the direction of the noise, Pippin leaned forward and glanced at Merry over his shoulder.

"Ask one of them to translate for us."

Merry rolled his eyes again, certain that Pippin had to be joking. When answered by those same pleading eyes that had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, he vehemently shook his head. "Oh, no, Pippin. If you want to know so badly, ask them yourself."

His face turned back to the quickly advancing group as he squinted at them. "That one looks like the elf who found us in the forest."

"There were several elves."

"The one who spoke to us, Merry," Pippin replied flippantly as if it had been the most obvious connection to make. "Halden? Haldar?"

"Haldir?"

"Yes! That one. I believe that's him right there."

Merry's lips quirked into a mildly amused grin. "Then perhaps since the two of you are such great friends, you should be the one to ask for help."

Pippin seemed to consider the remark, and then before Merry had time to stop him he had moved halfway over the slight hill, crouched on his heels on the slight bank and clinging to a sapling to sturdy himself.

"Excuse me," he began, waving when the elf nearest to him looked up. "My friend here and I were just wondering if you could do us a small favor." The elves continued to stare at him, faces as clear and impassive as ever; Pippin cleared his throat and abruptly lost his nerve when Haldir's eyebrows arched in impatience. He decided that the ground was suddenly much more worthy of his attention, and he determined to keep his eyes locked on a small shrub until the elves moved on.

"Yes, _perian_?"

"Er, right then." Pippin's reluctantly brought his head back up, the corner of his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "We -- my friend and I, I mean -- have been listening to the elf songs for some time now, and while they sound beautiful anyway, we were wondering what they meant, that is, what the words are. There aren't any elves where we're from, so I'm afraid our own knowledge of your language is a bit, well, lacking."

Pippin misjudged the slight smirk that crawled across Haldir's mouth, and for a moment he feared the elves might suddenly burst into laughter. He shyly lowered his eyes to his feet, inexplicably embarrassed with himself.

_Uich gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhín  
__An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen_

"You are not bound to loss and silence, for you are not bound to the circles of this world."

His chin turned upwards again, brow creased. "I beg your pardon?"

This time there was no mistaking Haldir's smirk, though it seemed more amused than malicious, much to Pippin's relief. "The song, _perian_. Those are the first two lines."

"Oh! Right," Pippin hastily replied, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. "Lovely song, if I might say so."

All three elves nodded agreement. "I will pass your compliments along," Haldir assured, though Pippin, being enough of a kidder in his own right, was well aware of the sarcasm under the comment. Nevertheless, he thanked them and waited until they were a respectable distance away before scrambling back up the hill.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What does it mean?"

Pippin smiled broadly. "You said that if I wanted to know I should ask them myself, so I did. Perhaps if you want to know --" The spiel was cut short when he found himself in a headlock, Merry's knuckles digging into his scalp. "Ow! Stop that!"

The choke hold eased somewhat. "Will you tell me?"

"Well, I'm hardly in a position to say no." When he was able to sit up again, he rubbed his neck and glared at his cousin, hoping a guilt trip might prevent a future similar incident. "It's something about not being bound to loss and silence and such. Cheery enough, I gather. Pity the song itself is so sad."

Merry wisely kept it to himself that more or less all hobbit songs were concerned with drinking and farming, so anything more dire than a devastated crop or a spilled beer mug would seem depressing to them. Instead, he sighed and wordlessly handed over the pipe, which Pippin took without a moment's hesitation. Merry watched him as he closed his eyes and took a deep drag from it, then pursed his lips and vainly tried to create anything but the glob of smoke that appeared.

"I wonder how Gandalf does that," he muttered to himself, watching the thin trails of smoke waft through the air and eventually dissipate. "Or Bilbo, for that matter. I shall have to ask one of them some day." An owl flew overhead, a branch creaking somewhere nearby under its weight when it landed. Pippin narrowed his eyes and strained in the darkness to see it, then gave up when the owl was consumed by the blackness of the woods.

"I always wanted a younger brother," Merry offered quietly, watching his toes work the grass. "Or a younger sister, but most especially a younger brother. Then you came along, which was close enough. I mean, yes, Frodo and I were quite close then, but he's so much older than I am. I wanted someone closer to my age so that we could play together and get in trouble together and just, just do things that young hobbits do. By the time I decided that was what I wanted Frodo was already old enough to know better.

"You were so very small and sickly when you were born . . . I promised Auntie Eg that I'd take special care of you. They didn't even like us playing together when we would visit each other because you got sick so easily. The only way I could even get your parents to trust me to take you places was because I gave them my word I'd keep you safe."

Pippin smiled faintly, nudging his cousin with his shoulder. "Aye, well, you've done a fine job so far, Merry. Really, I mean that."

Merry tried to return the smile, only to have it fall short of quite reaching his eyes. "I'd like to think so, but I can't help but think . . . well, maybe I could have done more to help Frodo as well. Truth was, I was so worried about you, trying to keep you out of reach of those-those things, I think I actually forgot about Frodo. And now I just, I wonder if maybe I could have done more. Maybe if I'd have tried harder, if I could have got you someplace safe and then gone off to help Frodo, maybe he wouldn't be in the state he's in now." His voice cracked, tears springing to his eyes. "I was foolish, Pip. I love you both dearly, and I could have lost you both."

Pippin made a tsking noise and pulled Merry into a hug, leaning his head against the older hobbit's, nose twitching against the blond curls tickling him. He ran a comforting hand along his cousin's back while they listened to the song in the distance fade and become yet another tune. Fireflies lit up the treetops above them, little pinpricks of light that offered the slightest glimpse of hope in the darkness.

"Merry, stop. It's no one's fault that Frodo is hurt, least of all yours. If anyone, I should say it was mine. I was the one who insisted we build that fire to cook with after all. Maybe those creatures would never have found us otherwise." He paused for a breath, and a slight smile. "My point is that I don't really think anyone is to blame. We did what we could, considering. I still think you're a fine protector, even if I _do _resent that you still feel you need to act that way with me."

A quiet, choked laugh escaped Merry's lips then. "Sad state of affairs we've found ourselves in, Peregrin Took, when I'm the one pouting and you're the one offering advice, isn't it?"

"I'm sure it won't last." He shifted, craning his neck to look at the glowing ceiling of twinkling lights over their heads. "Look, Merry. Even elves have fireflies."

The remark was perhaps more ridiculous than Pippin had intended it, which could account for why they both dissolved into giggles. By the time they caught their breath they were on their backs, staring up at the ever-changing pattern.

"Of course they do, Pip. Why wouldn't elves have flash bugs? They're everywhere." Pippin only nodded in reply, lazily picking leaves and pieces of grass from his hair as he did so. "Just shows that you can at least count on some things, no matter where you are."

"Maybe. I'd rather it be five good meals and a warm bed, myself, but you can depend on your fireflies if you like." Merry looked over at him. "I told you it wouldn't last."

Frodo's anguished expression flashed in Merry's mind, prompting him to grab Pippin's hand anxiously and in turn exciting a surprised squeak from his cousin. "But we will, won't we? We'll last, right?"

Relaxing, Pippin crawled closer and laid his head on Merry's shoulder. "I think we will, Merry. I should think we'll always have each other."

Calmed somewhat, Merry nodded and let his head lazily drift to rest atop Pippin's, fair voices singing him to sleep while thousands of delicately flashing lights danced behind his eyelids. There were constants in life, even if it seemed to be changing with frightening speed of late. To think that all he needed to remind him was one restless, ever-moving Took.


End file.
